


from the peanut gallery

by virtueoso



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtueoso/pseuds/virtueoso
Summary: Great things come from the smallest of beginnings.





	from the peanut gallery

The day Scott meets his new partner doesn’t quite go as planned.

She’s not at all what he expected; quiet, shy, barely meeting his gaze. Her palms are sweaty – at least, he’s pretty sure the offending palm is hers and not his. He thought girls weren’t supposed to sweat.  Maybe she never got the memo, because she’s not much like any girl he’s met. She doesn’t chatter endlessly, ask him a million questions about his older brothers and whether Danny plans on going to the Olympics. She just stands there, twisting her stray costume threads round the hand that’s not limply entangled with his.  

He can feel the eyes on them as they take the ice. His parents are there in the stands, probably hers too – not that he’d dare to look right now. Instead he focuses intensely on not tripping over his own feet, and not leading them both into the boards. No one ever told him how much more complicated things would be, skating with a partner. She’s so close he can hear her breathing, soft and quick as they push across the ice together. He watches her brow furrow in concentration; she still won’t look at him, but she feels less like a dead weight in his arms, which is a plus.

In his head, he recites everything his mom told him about this new partner. Her name is Tessa. She lives in the city, which would intimidate him if she wasn’t so tiny. She’s only seven, two years younger than him. And apparently, she won’t look at him. He hopes she’s just nervous, and that it’s not indicative of some deeper level of disgust.

He thought he’d be grossed out to be skating with a girl, but it doesn’t feel nearly as strange as his friends told him it would. By the time they reach their second repetition, he finds himself settling into the hold, the pattern, the easy rise and fall of their blades. He can tell by the way her chin has lifted, fingers grasping his with purpose, that she’s relaxing too.

Her head tilted close to his, prepared smile giving way to a genuine one, he admits to himself that she really is very pretty - especially the way her eyes catch the light when she turns, all glittering and eager. Not that it means anything. He is nine years old, and he can call a girl pretty and appreciate her glittering eyes because he is mature and worldly. Still, the fact that she fixes her gaze stubbornly on a point five centimetres to the left of his head bothers him more than he knows why.

He almost stumbles when her hand moves to his shoulder and he remembers they’re supposed to transition to a closed hold.

It’s the only mistake they make in the entire run-through. He feels like he’s floating, one move leading seamlessly into the next. When they step off the ice, his parents are smiling, her parents are smiling, his aunt is smiling – it would be unnerving if he wasn’t so elated.

They’re left to their own devices as the adults convene, rewarded with a handful of spare change for the vending machine in the hallway. Scott glances towards his partner, but she’s leaning against the boards, painstakingly unlacing her boots. He makes it to the vending machine and back by the time she’s finished, surprisingly speedy for a nine year-old in skate guards. Arms laden with an array of snacks, he grins triumphantly at her.

“Which one d'you want?”

“Oh, no…I’m fine, thank you,” she dips her head, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh. Ok.”

The silence stretches between them as he awkwardly toys with the packets in his arms, decides to unlace his boots, and scatters most of the snacks to the ground in the process.

Flipping a packet of peanuts from hand to hand, he glances over to check on the adults – still deep in discussion. Obviously, they were a riveting topic of conversation. If only his partner was likewise convinced. He can’t figure out why she won’t just _look_ at him – did she not enjoy the skate? It seems impossible that she didn’t feel that same energy, the ease, the comfort.

He’s confused, and a little hurt, and ok, maybe he just wants to see what she’ll do.

So he yells “Heads up!” and chucks the packet of peanuts at her.

The split second where she looks up – looks _at_ him, eyes widening in surprise, and the thrill of success when she meets his gaze – is totally worth it. He doesn’t even care that the peanuts go sailing past her head, packet splitting open across the ice. A small giggle bursts from her mouth – one she immediately clamps her hands over, like she’s shocked the sound even came from within her.

He definitely doesn’t care about the peanuts any more.

His aunt, however, cares a bit more, and he and Tessa spend the next ten minutes scrabbling around on their hands and knees for stray peanuts on the ice. He can’t resist bumping shoulders with her – she giggles every time.

“I think I ruined our partnership already,” he whispers, around the fourth time he bumps into her.

She follows his gaze to the edge of the rink, where the adults are still deep in discussion.

“Hmm. My mom probably thinks you’re a bad influence,” she whispers back.

“It was a packet of peanuts!”

“Good partners don’t throw things at each other,” she says, raising her eyebrows.

He elbows her.

“ _Ow-_ “

Before he can find out what else good partners don’t do, they’re interrupted by a sharp clap.

“Tessa, Scott. Over here please.” His aunt’s voice echoes across the space.

They smother their smiles, collect their handfuls of contraband (he makes sure to pick up the ones Tessa dropped when he elbowed her) and follow orders.

Every step across the ice takes him further away from skating with Tessa, he’s sure of it. His mom is hovering by the boards, Tessa’s parents close behind. He wishes he didn’t have his hands full of these stupid peanuts or he’d take her hand again. He wants to remember what this partner felt like, weeks down the line when they’re trying him out with prospective partner number 6. He wants to know if anyone will ever measure up.

She looks as nervous as he feels, biting her lip as they step off the ice and deposit their handfuls into a bin. He could take her hand now, but it feels strange, in front of everyone. Out there on the ice, it was easy to forget, to get swept up in the _bendkneestraightenarmlookatpartner_. Here, Tessa studies the floor with practiced fascination, Scott continues to brush peanut shells off his palm, and they say nothing.

His aunt waits until Scott is sure no microscopic pieces of peanut remain anywhere on his person, then steps towards them.

“How did you find the skate?”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

His aunt raises an eyebrow.

“Just good?”

Scott shrugs, stomach clenching. “It was fun, I guess.”

There’s another long pause. Over his aunt’s shoulder, Scott can see Tessa’s parents exchange glances.

“I-I really liked it,” Tessa pipes up. Her voice is quiet, but steady. Behind their backs, her small hand slides into his. It’s uncomfortably warm and he can feel the peanut dust still stuck to it, but it’s all the courage he needs.

“I want to skate with Tessa-” he starts.

“Perfect. Tessa, honey?”

“Sure!”

“-and I’m _really_ sorry about the peanuts, I promise I won’t do it ever again and I’ll be on my best behaviour, and…oh.”

He blinks owlishly.

In the background, he can see the adults muffling their laughter.

“That sorts that nicely,” his aunt finishes, with a smile. “I’ll be holding you to that promise, mister Moir. No funny business, you’re to set a good example for young Tessa.”

He doesn’t quite understand what just happened, but Tessa’s hand tightens around his, and her face lights up with a gap-toothed grin, and he lets himself get swept along in the tide of shared happiness.

 

~~~~~~~~~

Outside, they’re given a minute to say their temporary goodbyes.

“So, uh…” he tries, hands jammed into his pockets as he shuffles from foot to foot.

She sticks out a hand, looks directly at him with a clear smile. Her eyes are a brilliant, bright green. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen that colour before in his entire life.

“Partners?”

He could get used to the sound of that.

“Partners.”

A matching smile spreads across his face as he takes her hand, and she suddenly feels a solid lump pressed between their palms.

“Just so you don’t forget me,” he says.

Her fingers curl around the peanut, and she giggles, and yeah - he could get used to the sound of that too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ok i know technically they didn't talk for two years but life's more fun with artistic liberty


End file.
